‘Twas the night before August…

So the great food experiment begins tomorrow. I thought today would be a gustatory send-off — gorging on buffalo wings and Crisco — but it was pretty much a regular day.

And I suppose that’s the problem. Today’s menu was:

Farmers’ market crepe with banana! (and Nutella)

2 Chick-Fil-A sandwiches (this was deliberate)

A turkey sausage

Chocolate ice cream mixed with Butterfinger (this was a splurge, even for me)

2 Cokes (including — dun dun dunnnn — the last one in the fridge)

But starting tomorrow, the menu changes: You are telling me what to eat. Co-worker Erin is up first, and she helpfully guided me through the fish dinner plan for tomorrow night — tilapia will work instead of the recipe’s sea bass, and canned tomatoes would suffice if I didn’t buy fresh.

But I did buy fresh. And the tilapia is thawing now. And the main reasons those two things happened is because my wife Tracey is providing a great deal of support, and I know this whole concept would fail without her. She was patient with me in the produce section yesterday, telling me what I’d need for a salad. She’s offered to cook the dinners, since I usually wouldn’t be home in time to make them. And she’s coaching me on the little things: The silver thing with the four pointy ends is a “fork;” couscous, quinoa, and rice are something called “grains” and are interchangeable (or something, I kind of stopped listening after “quinoa” because I knew I’d have to type it later); I can’t buy produce four weeks in advance; after preparing food you don’t have to put it in a bag because apparently food can be served NOT in a bag; etc.

And I love Tracey anyway, but especially with this. She’s already taking care of two kids, and now there’s me.

And besides, (food pun ahead!), I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew. A late work night or extra-curricular event (like Saturday night’s Sox game with the kids) will wreck dinner plans — so I’ll have to move Jaclin’s steak dinner to another day. And I get up way before the rest of my family, so noisy or complicated breakfasts on weekdays won’t work — so I swapped Laura’s Monday, including a egg breakfast, with Jack’s Sunday, with a quieter oatmeal breakfast.

But you know what? It’s going to happen, or at least, mostly happen. I have patron saints for most every day in August, and I’m genuinely thankful and grateful to have friends looking out for me. Heck, my friend Mike thought the idea was cool enough that he interviewed me about it for his radio show and podcast, Outside The Loop. Whether or not it was good programming for him, it’s another public commitment for me that I am going to do this.